温热的傍晚我的父亲站在

My father stands in the warm evening

我住的第一所房子的门廊。

on the porch of my first house.

我四岁了，正在发困。

I am four years old and growing tired.

我看到他的头在在星星之间

I see his head among the stars,

他香烟的光芒

the glow of his cigarette, redder

比夏天低垂在老街上

than the summer moon riding

的月亮还要红。只有

low over the old neighborhood. We

我们两人，他问我是否快乐

are alone, and he asks me if I am happy.

"你幸福吗？" 我无法回答。

“Are you happy?” I cannot answer.

我真的不懂这个词

I do not really understand the word,

还有那声音，父亲的声音也不是

and the voice, my father’s voice, is not

他的声音，而是莫名的厚重和哽咽，

his voice, but somehow thick and choked,

我以前从未听过的声音，但

a voice I have not heard before, but

后来经常听到。他弯下腰

heard often since. He bends and passes

用拇指在我眼睛下面都按了按。

a thumb beneath each of my eyes.

香烟不见了，但我能闻到

The cigarette is gone, but I can smell

弥漫在他呼吸中的疲惫。

the tiredness that hangs on his breath.

他什么也没找到，微笑着

He has found nothing, and he smiles

用双手搂住我的头。

and holds my head with both his hands.

然后把我抱到他的肩上，

Then he lifts me to his shoulder,

现在我也在星星之间了，

and now I too am among the stars,

和他一样高。你幸福吗？我说。

as tall as he. Are you happy? I say.

他点头回答：是！噢，是的！噢，是的！

He nods in answer, Yes! oh yes! oh yes!

在新的声音里他什么也没说，

And in that new voice he says nothing,

把我的头紧靠在他的头上，

holding my head tight against his head,

他的眼睛闭着，迎着星光，

his eyes closed up against the starlight,

仿佛那些眨动的小小的光的

as though those tiny blinking eyes

眼睛能找到一个高大憔悴的孩子

of light might find a tall, gaunt child

抱着他的孩子迎接秋天的

holding his child against the promises

承诺，直到男孩睡去

of autumn, until the boy slept

再也不会在那个世界醒来。

never to waken in that world again.